


Dressed For An Occasion

by Carriwitchets



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 13:12:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19702069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carriwitchets/pseuds/Carriwitchets
Summary: This left them with few options, really; he could hardly leave one of his men to suffer like this.Still... he tried one more go at pleading for reason, asking more than stating, "Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress."(Shenanigans taken just a liiittle too far, most likely... but if everything works out in the end, it's fine, right?)





	Dressed For An Occasion

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt was "Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress", but nobody said who had to be the one wearing the dress.

On the battlefield, as Mathilda had once proudly proclaimed, there was no difference in gender beyond what they could accomplish. There was no distinction--no women's work and men's work, no forcing her to hide behind the men as shields when they all knew very well that Mathilda could fight better than the best of them.

... On the battlefield, that was the case, though that naturally did not extend to camp, or the barracks. In the barracks, men and women were segregated--for natural, obvious reasons that only the most foolhardy of men would ever try to undermine.

The last one who had thought it would be wise to try to peek on the women had gone home on crutches, leaving the Deliverance in disgrace after Clive was through with him.

Which, Clive knew, in part was the point behind this plan--but he also knew that it was practically suicide for just that reason as well, and he stared at Lukas with an expression akin to despairing disbelief.

"You must be joking." Flatly, simply, and uncompromisingly, Clive stared at Lukas, who looked back with that infuriatingly calm and placid expression he so perfectly wore.

Damn him. He was probably laughing about this entire matter.

"I'm afraid not." Lukas spread his hands in the slightest of placating gestures. "The truth is, we are at our wits end. There are no other options, Clive."

There was something that sounded suspiciously like an amused snort from Python, though when Clive shot a glance at him, his expression was straight and he was idly inspecting his fingernails. For his part, Forsyth was wringing his hands in absolute despair.

"There is no need to go through with this, Commander!" Forsyth's tone was pleading, and Clive grimaced further. "I will just have to deal with the consequences myself. It's... it is perfectly fine!"

Python elbowed him silent, but in truth, that in and of itself was more than enough to sway Clive properly. To Forsyth, nothing was more important than his knightly honor and his chances at becoming a proper knight. While things were far more relaxed in the Deliverance, it would still reflect very poorly on him if it was to be known that...well, he'd managed to misplace one of the Deliverance's defensive baubles (a ring of sorts that had been lent to him for a particular battle) in one of the woman soldier's bags by pure, unfortunate accident.

Such baubles were incredibly valuable, and Forsyth would naturally be called to return it the next morning when inventory was taken... and if he did not have it, it would reflect very poorly indeed. From any other soldier, he could easily have asked for it back, but barging into the women's barracks would be an incredibly unwise plan. Clive would have gladly asked Mathilda, knowing she would be able to extract the ring with minimal fuss, except she had left earlier for a quick scouting mission.

Which left them with few options, really; he could hardly leave one of his men to suffer like this.

Still... he tried one more go at pleading for reason, asking more than stating, "Give me one good reason why I should wear a dress."

\--

It turned out, they had many good reasons.

"If you were to be caught, it wouldn't be your head on the chopping block," Lukas had offered up, almost cheekily if not for his innocent smile.

"My hair is unfortunately too distinct... I would be noticed immediately," Forsyth had stated, despairing, still despairing that he had pushed his commander, of all people, to this.

"Well, I mean... you'd work it well, y'know," had been Python's dry contribution, before being smacked silent by Forsyth.

It was hard to argue the three of them in unison, of course, and so Clive had had to swallow his pride (and his many, many sighs), and...toss the dress on. In truth? It did fit him reasonably well, if only because it was a large dress that hid his very unfeminine legs and without much in the way of a figure in general. With his hair ruffled from its usual style and keeping his head down, he... well, he didn't really pass at all, but he supposed he had a better chance than the other three.

And so it was that he'd hurried his way into the barracks, grateful that they were mostly empty at this hour, keeping his head firmly down, searching for the bag in question and easily finding it. One problem down, and this was going far too smoothly, he knew, but even as he started to rummage through the bag for the missing ring, Clive could only count his blessings that Mathilda was likely still out on her scouting mission, because she would never let him live this down--

"Drop the bag and put your hands where I can see them, madam," came a flat, fierce tone, one that he knew all too well and loved, and oh Mila, she'd gotten back early, hadn't she, and now she thought he was some random village woman trying to steal from their belongings, and he was either going to die like this, dignity-less, or throw his pride on the ground and trample it, and--

Mathilda, naturally, never one for waiting when there was action to be done, took the choice from him; she strode forward, grabbed his wrist firmly, and yanked him around so she could see his face.

In truth? It was almost worth it to see shock on her face; Mathilda wasn't easily surprised to this extent, and for a long moment, she could only stare at her fiance, mouth open and gaping. And then she gasped, releasing his wrist to instead press her hand to her chest, eyes still wide.

"Clive? What--what in the gods' name are you doing?"

\--

The story took longer than he would have liked to explain, but once she understood, Mathilda had laughed, more amused than anything. She helped him search for the ring, finding it at the bottom of the bag none the worse for wear, and then escorted him out of the barracks, protecting his pride further by ushering away anyone who would look too closely at the towering woman beside her.

And once out of the barracks and in the shadows of the fast setting sun, hidden near the back of the building, Mathilda laughed properly, a hand to her chest and an arm around her stomach, clear amusement ringing out. It wasn't every day she got to see a sight like this, Clive knew, so while he was rueful, he weathered it; the sound of her enjoyment was worth the embarrassment, if nothing else.

"I... I apologize, my love," Mathilda finally gasped out, wiping a tear from her eye. "It is just--!"

Clive snorted softly at that, taking one of her hands in his gently, and shook his head. "I know. I simply look ridiculous."

Mathilda inspected him for a moment, fighting the urge to smile--and losing out against it, lips twitching upwards. "Well...yes. You do. Come--you should get changed before anyone else sees you like this."

Clive's eyebrows arched faintly at the insinuation that she would be joining him, though Mathilda cut him off before he could say anything, simply stating, "I can direct anyone who might see you away, and we shall have to return the dress. It will look less strange if I am the one who carries it."

"Sensible as ever, my sweet," Clive sighed, caving gracefully, and so they went, hand in hand, the evening theirs to wile away together now.

\--

"But truly, I cannot imagine how the ring ended up in her bag...!" Forsyth fretted, wringing his hands together idly.

"Yup," Python responded, hardly even listening, watching the way that Clive and Mathilda left together, instead of the two very different directions they would have headed if not for this little impromptu "mistake". They were always busy, those two, Clive with reports and command, Mathilda with training and scouting and recruits--some time together was just what the doctor (in this case, Lukas) ordered.

"It's a real mystery," he added, expression far too amused to be innocent.


End file.
